Sora's Quest (18 page)

Then out came an old man, stooped and worn, with stiff gray hair that stuck out from under the hat like the bristles of a broom. He sneezed once more and looked up at her with vivid blue eyes. Sora thought he looked like a crafty badger or a gray fox. He wiggled a thick white mustache at her and scratched his stubbly chin.

"Well, what d'ya want? Eh? I wouldn't be out this late if I were a pretty young girl like you. Getting dark these nights—darker than usual, even with a full moon, and all of those ruffians out on the streets...." He trailed off, blinking at her. Sora was too tired to reply. She shifted on her sore feet.

"But of course, I'm not a pretty young lady like you, am I? Ha ha! And I certainly don't have my own bodyguard—eh, young man?" he called over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, are you looking for something? I'm a bit scattered at the moment. Age catches up with you, you know—doesn't matter how far you travel. Just the other day I almost set this whole place on fire, spilled a candle. Not very good for business...anyway, what is it you need?"

Crash didn't answer.

"A—a map," Sora said. The man's rambling was a little hard to follow. Now that she was in a warm room, the full force of her exhaustion hit her; she wanted to take a nap right there on the floor.

The storekeeper turned away and threw up his arms, making a loud sound of annoyance. He stalked off toward one of the back tables. "'A map,' she says, 'I need a map!' Well that's certainly a big request! A map of what, exactly? The world? Hasn't been made yet. The oceans? Mostly uncharted, except for the coasts. How about further inland? The City of Crowns? A grand sight, to be sure. The Temple of the North Wind? You'll need to join their discipleship to go there. Sorry if that spoils your plans." He paused and looked her over. Sora knew she looked a mess—her hair was relatively straight, but her clothes were muddy and wrinkled from her nights spent in the woods. The storekeeper, however, seemed to look right past all the stains. "You seem like a well-off patron," he said, and eyed their bags by the door. "Are you taking a vacation? A little getaway? I know of some great spots."

Sora couldn't answer the strange old man. Her mouth was dry; she was overwhelmed by the possibilities. The silence stretched—
get a hold of yourself!
She swallowed with a force of will.

Then Crash spoke up, saving her from further embarrassment. "A map of Fennbog," he said pointedly. "The
full
swamp."

The man frowned at him, appearing genuinely concerned. "Have you lost your wits, man? Fennbog swamp has never been traveled, let alone mapped. The geography changes each season, anyhow. You can't map the weather!" And then he laughed, throwing back his head, spittle flying from his lips. Sora didn't think the joke was that funny. The man calmed down, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Besides," he finished, "They say that swamp is cursed."

Sora gave Crash a pointed look. She had tried to warn the men days ago, but of course, no one had listened.

"Right," Crash said, and took an unexpected step toward her. "But we have this." And he nudged Sora with his shoulder. She stumbled forward, her mouth opening in surprise.

The old man stared at her, his eyes narrowing, then his gaze slowly traveled down her face, to her neck, to the chain that wound under her shirt. With a huff of annoyance, Sora pulled the Cat's Eye into the open. She knew this was what Crash wanted, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't see how a magical necklace would help in the swamp.

The man gazed at the stone. His eyebrows rising almost into the rim of his hat, he took a steady step toward her. "Is that...." he murmured, still staring. "Is that...."

"A Cat's Eye," Crash said bluntly.

"But...I haven't seen one since I was a lad. Where...where would you get such a thing?"

Sora opened her mouth to speak, but Crash cut her off again. "No matter," he grunted. "But to my understanding, you are a specialist on such things, are you not? How might it lead us through the swamp?"

"'Lead us through the swamp?'" Sora balked, turning to stare at Crash in horror. Was she to be responsible for navigating Fennbog? Ludicrous!

The old man saw the look on her face and grinned again, displaying the gaps between his yellowed teeth. "Why, yes, my girl," he said, and nodded once again to her necklace. Sora let it slip back under her shirt, disliking the way his eyes lingered on the artifact. "Yes, indeed. The Cat's Eye works as a compass of sorts. It leads you...to where you want to go." Then he held up a finger. "To where you
truly
want to go."

Sora hadn't been expecting that. She turned to glance at Crash, her eyebrow raised skeptically. The assassin didn't meet her gaze; he was propped up against a wall, arms crossed, distinctly unimpressed.

"How do you mean?" she asked, turning back to the mapmaker.

"I mean...that you can ask it to lead you through the swamp. You can ask it to direct you. But the Cat's Eye has whims of its own. If it senses that you want to be somewhere else...well, then it might just take you there instead."

Sora paled at this, a myriad of possibilities running through her head. She touched the stone subconsciously under her shirt, wishing that it was more familiar to her, that it didn't feel so mischievous and unpredictable.

She turned back to the storekeeper to see a small, stormy cloud of dust rising in the air. He was scuffling from table to table, shuffling through parchment like a madman, stacking and unstacking. Finally from a table at the back of the room he pulled a large book, almost too heavy to lift, bound in wood and string. He opened it wide, the pages crackling.

"Ah, here we are," he muttered. Sora stepped around the tables and paused behind him, peering over his shoulder, trying to see around his wide hat. "An older tome, to be sure, but I can't imagine much has changed. This is a history of sorts. It speaks of the War of the Races. Bought it quite a few decades ago while I was mapping the changes in land formations...." His voice petered off as he caught a cold glance from Crash. "Right. This section here tells of the Cat's Eye, perhaps on a brief page. Not much is known of them anymore, you know. Nor ever, I suspect. But here it is, here it is...yes." Sora saw a small drawing of an orb that looked similar to the Cat's-Eye stone. She recognized the smooth swirl at its center, the black lines highlighting its glow. The letters were heavy and ornate, drawn with an artist's hand.

"The stones were used to lead armies through dense mist, across stormy oceans and treacherous terrain," he quoted. "They were essential in the Battle of Aerobourne, when the humans fought against the Harpies....The Harpy ships flew above-ground, powered by sunstones that were mined from the ocean...."

Crash snorted. Sora blinked, realizing she had been holding her breath, spellbound. She had already been imagining the sweeping masts, billowing sails and great gusts of wind that had lifted the flying ships into the air, up through the clouds, powered by shining white sunstones. She had read stories of the Battle of Aerobourne before.

"A bearer had to keep firm control of his thoughts and desires while leading a legion. He had to be completely loyal to the cause. Any thoughts of doubt or deceit, or a desire to run from battle, could lead the entire army into aimless circles. Above all, the bearer must be disciplined."

Disciplined.
The word fell on Sora's ears like a heavy stone.
Am I?
She quickly recounted several times she had refused an extra scone at breakfast, or had waited patiently through her morning studies for an afternoon ride. And yet, traveling with Crash and Dorian had showed her a different kind of discipline. A whole new world of hardship, where one had to hunt each night, wait an hour or more for a warm meal, constantly cover one's trail, and take good care of the horses.

"How much discipline?" Sora asked. Her voice wavered only slightly.

"Never mind that," Crash snapped. "How does one direct the Cat's Eye? Need she visualize her destination? Or simply wish it?"

The old man turned away from the book. "I haven't the slightest," he said, his mustache bristling. He gave Crash a pointed look. "I've never worn a Cat's Eye, and I wouldn't know. You would have to be stupidly desperate to travel through the swamp, either way." And then his eyes narrowed, darting back and forth between Crash and Sora. He gave them a second look, perhaps wondering why they were so anxious to travel into Fennbog swamp....

Crash seemed to pick up on the same thought, flipping the storekeeper a silver coin. The old man caught it in mid-air with a practiced hand.

"For your trouble," Crash said. He turned away, motioning for Sora to follow. She quickly picked up their bags, giving the mapmaker a slight nod for courtesy's sake, then hustled from the room.

The storekeeper watched them leave with quiet, thoughtful eyes.

Crash and Sora walked for a brisk twenty minutes until they were in a completely different district of Mayville, though still on the Fallcrest side. Crash finally paused in the dim glow of a window and waited for her to catch up. Sora reached his side and awkwardly met his eyes, firmly resisting the urge to look away.

"This is The Oaken Door," he said, indicating the building next to them. True to its name, there was a solid oak door painted a deep, rich red under a hanging lantern. It looked as though it had been built for giants. The doorknob was a large brass ring, dangling at Sora's eye level. "Burn and Dorian will be waiting for you in the common room, downstairs."

"You're leaving?" she asked sharply. She knew what that meant. Collecting payment. Her thoughts began to race, spinning about in her head. Her eyes darted around the shadowy streets, wondering which way he was headed, where his contact awaited. Or perhaps there was no middleman, and he was meeting directly with his employer. She could suddenly envision Lord Sinclair riding up in a polished carriage of burnt cherrywood, with the sheen of four gray thoroughbred horses prancing through the night. A heavy sack of coins dangled from his ringed hand, thrust elegantly through the carriage window. "How much?" she blurted, her eyes still focused on that imaginary carriage. "How much are you being paid?" she boldly asked Crash. "I will pay you more—double—triple—if you'll tell me who hired you!"

The assassin gave her a smooth, blank stare, like a pane of glass. "I was given no name," he finally consented to say. Sora was surprised by the direct answer. "And I have seen no faces. I work in complete anonymity."

"Then take me with you!" Sora repeated. "I'll hide in the shadows, I'll try to identify...."

"Go inside," he ordered icily.

Sora flinched at those words. She searched his eyes but saw only hardness, the coldblooded gaze of a snake. She turned to the door, simultaneously juggling the packages and trying to turn the knob.

"Is it far?" she said, still struggling with the door. "How soon will you return?" She finally got the knob to turn, and shoved the solid, heavy door open. Despite its size, the door swung easily on its hinges.

Suddenly she was engulfed by a wave of light and sound.

When she glanced up, Crash was gone.

Sora entered the building. Her first thought was to drop the packages and head straight back out the door, but then Burn's golden eyes gleaming across the room met hers.

He and Dorian sat at a low table toward the back of the inn. Upon seeing her, the giant Wolfy nudged his companion, and the silver-haired thief looked up. Grinned. Fangs. He set down his cards and slipped out of his chair, smoothly navigating the room to her side.

"You look no worse for wear, sweetness," he said, taking her by the elbow. But he didn't offer to help her with the packages, which was irritating, since she felt like her arms were made of strained rope. "Did Crash say when he will be back?"

"No," she muttered. She wondered how many times they had done this before—sat in some smoky rundown tavern while the assassin did his dirty work.

"Ah, then it should be soon. Come sit by us. Your hands are like ice." Finally he took the bags from her and slipped his hand into her cold grasp. She glanced sideways at him, shock briefly passing over her face.

He grinned, a wicked look that made her wonder at his thoughts. Then he leaned in close to her ear. "Come now, sweetness. Everyone in the room is staring. At least act amiable toward me."

Now Sora noticed quite a few sets of eyes glancing in her direction. Perhaps it was because of her many packages, or maybe it was unusual to see a young woman here. The room was mostly filled with farm types, grizzly old men and weathered merchants relaxing after a long day at market. The few women in the room looked lush and bawdy, wearing low-cut blouses and frayed skirts.